Cage Fight
by A-very-supernatural-fan
Summary: Two Winchesters, a dubious dark-alley hideout and a savage cage fight. What could possibly go wrong?


**CAGE FIGHT**

 **Summary:** Two Winchesters, a dubious dark-alley hideout and a savage cage fight. What could possibly go wrong?

 **Author's note:** Man, I've been out of this writing game for so long. I've got plenty of ideas but so little time to write these days. However, I hope y'all will bear with me and are enjoying the summer while we wait for season fourteen to arrive. This story was beta'd by my dear friend Dizzo.

\- Elisa.

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" _It's hard to beat a person who never gives up_."

\- Babe Ruth

 **_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _**

Seated in a corner booth in a big smoked-filled barroom, face partially hidden in shadow, Sam nursed a lukewarm beer between his hands. He'd chosen this particular spot to have the best view of the room, and to be able to keep an eye on the dubious assemblage around him.

This was definitely not one of the usual types of places he and his brother frequented. It wasn't a small-town bar, mostly occupied by local drunks, where the wildest thing to happen was the occasional bar brawl. This was a low-key and distinctly suspect dark alley hideout – one, Sam knew, that would have been difficult to locate if they hadn't heard about it from a fellow hunter. In the short time he'd been there, Sam had seen plenty of illicit goings-on, including gambling and drug dealing. So, judging by what he'd observed so far, it was a place where shady people came to do shady business.

Even as he sat, keeping a discreet watch over the unscrupulous crowd, Sam's eyes were mainly glued to the big metal cage filling the center of the room. Two men were currently engaged in a savage fight inside of it. Sam had learned that the bigger one of the men was the bar favorite; a big fellow in black shorts, with a huge skull tattoo covering half of his naked back. He had a buzz cut and from the grotesque shape of his distorted nose, Sam guessed it had been broken more than once. He was known as _Punisher_ and it seemed the big guy hadn't lost a fight in ages. Sam could tell why; the guy was at least a head taller than him and broad as a golem. He was manhandling his current opponent with an ease that made even Gunner Lawless seem like an amateur in comparison. When the bout finally came to an end, Punisher was left standing while his unfortunate opponent had to be carried from the cage. Sam took a swig of his bottle and winced both in sympathy for the loser and from the bitter taste of the now tepid beer.

He and Dean were working a case involving the disappearance of a fellow hunter's grandson. The hunter, an old associate of Bobby's, was hospitalized after a run-in with a couple of vampires, and his grandson had taken it upon himself to finish the hunt. However, no one had heard from him or seen him in days, and since the old hunter was laid up in the hospital, he'd called for backup.

Having tracked the missing guy's credit card, Sam and Dean had followed the trail to this place. The minute they'd walked through the entrance, Sam had scrunched up his nose as the unpleasant smell of booze, tobacco and sweat attacked his nostrils. It was also way too noisy and crowded for his liking; Sam preferred the quiet spaces where he could actually hear his own thoughts – like the library back in the Bunker. Dean, however, seemed to be in his right element. His big brother's eyes had immediately lit up in excitement, and Sam had received an elbow in the side.

"Will you look at that, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed with a big grin while Sam rubbed his sore side. "These guys sure understand how to have fun!"

"Dude, I'm pretty sure they've all got a criminal record." Sam had mumbled, but Dean hadn't seemed to listen.

His big brother had already moved towards the bar, while Sam hung back and got a good view of the room. He'd spotted the corner booth then, deciding that's where he would go sit down when he got the chance. Dean had soon returned with two bottles of beer, pushed one of them into Sam's hand, and they'd split up straight away; Sam heading towards the pool tables while Dean disappeared into the crowd.

That had been around forty minutes ago, and Sam hadn't seen his brother since. He wasn't surprised though; Dean was impeccable at blending in – especially in a crowd like this. And if one of them could find a way to make the shady guys talk, Sam didn't doubt that it was Dean.

After a short break in the cage fights, the next match was announced – _Punisher_ vs. _Eastwood_. Sam straightened in anticipation when the two men entered the cage; this turned out to be the bout he'd been waiting for. The crowd cheered when Punisher appeared, and he made a show of flexing his muscles at them. Eastwood, on the contrary, was greeted by a chorus of boos and insulting epithets. However, he didn't seem to be fazed by any of it.

The two fighters took a stance in their corners of the cage. Unlike Punisher, the other guy was wearing sweats and a black t-shirt and even though this dude was clearly the underdog, Sam noticed he had a confident smirk plastered on his face.

The corner of Sam's lip lifted into a discreet smile. It wasn't part of the plan, but he couldn't resist putting his money on the smaller guy. Credit card scams only got them so far, and he was supposed to hustle some pool and listen in on conversations while Dean snooped around to get some intel on their case. However, with all the pool tables occupied, Sam tried his luck with the cage fight instead. The bookmaker who handled all the cage bets laughed in his face when he placed his bet on Eastwood instead of Punisher.

"You don't like money, kid?" The bookmaker mocked, flashing his nicotine stained teeth as Sam handed over his cash.

Sam shrugged his shoulders without a comment. If he'd learned one thing from all the years he and his big brother had been hunting the supernatural, it was to never underestimate even the most harmless-looking enemy. He and Dean had defeated some seemingly invincible enemies in their lifetime, so nothing was ever really set in stone.

Watching the two men circle around each other in the cage reminded Sam of attending wrestling matches with Dean and their dad when he'd been a kid. It had been exciting being in a vast, darkened space with a howling crowd, rooting for their favorite wrestlers. Despite Dad's excessive consumption of cheap beers (which Sam remembered spattered everyone around his dad whenever he got too riled up) it was still some of the fondest memories he had of his childhood. But unlike the MMA fights he remembered, this type of cage fight had no safety regulations and the opponents didn't play fair. Like at all. Sam had seen some pretty nasty tricks in the short time he'd been sitting there, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Punisher started out by stomping on the smaller man's foot and throwing a punch to his jaw before the match was even officially started.

Sam's protests drowned in the cacophony of cheers coming from Punisher's supporters. Eastwood didn't look impressed with the dirty move from his opponent, but he seemed to recover quickly. Punisher didn't waste any time throwing another punch, but this time Eastwood ducked and retaliated with a blow to the gut. The bigger man bent slightly forward – then, as Eastwood was about to follow up with a left-hook, Punisher head-butted him. Blood immediately spilled from Eastwood's nose, and Sam winced in sympathy.

 _Damn, that must have hurt._

The bar-favorite took advantage of Eastwood's disorientation with a kick that swept the smaller man off his feet. He landed on his side with a pained _oomph_ , and Sam's eyes widened when Punisher followed up with a dive drop, elbow cocked. At the very last second, Eastwood rolled and avoided what would have been a devastating blow to his face. Sam exhaled in relief, ignoring the disappointed shouts that emerged from Punisher's supporters as Eastwood quickly found his feet. Crimson still dripped from his nose and he spat some blood, watching the bigger man warily.

As the two fighters began to circle each other again, Eastwood said something to the taller man that Sam assumed was a snarky comment because it made Punisher look furiously at his shorter opponent. He swung his fist at Eastwood's face, but Eastwood blocked it and repaid the deed with a powerful blow that collided with Punisher's left cheekbone. The bar-favorite didn't get time to recover before he received a left-hook a second later – followed by an uppercut that nearly took the big guy down.

The noise in the bar-room reached new heights as a well-placed circle kick from Eastwood sent his rival into the mat. Even Sam chimed in on the dissonance of cheers and boos. Beer bottle long forgotten, he was sitting so far out on the edge of his seat that he was surprised he hadn't fallen off it yet. He knew that the fight wasn't done. None of the previous bouts had ended before one of the fighters stopped moving, and Punisher wasn't out for the count yet.

Even though Eastwood had every opportunity to do so, he hadn't given the bigger man the finishing blow yet. It seemed like he was playing fair; giving Punisher a chance to recover enough to get back on his feet instead of just finishing him off. Sam soon realized that Eastwood had made a big mistake by doing that. Because Punisher apparently didn't do 'fair'.

When Punisher got back up, he swiftly drew a switchblade out of the pocket of his shorts – pointing the tip at Eastwood.

"What the hell?!" Sam gasped and pushed his way out of the booth immediately.

 _That son of a bitch brought a weapon to the cage fight?_

Even as Sam moved closer to the cage, he knew that his protests wouldn't be heard. He'd known from the beginning that this type of fight didn't have fair rules, and no one was going to stop Punisher from using a frigging knife on his rival, but his overpowering sense of fair play couldn't allow this to happen. His whole body tensed as he saw the big man lashing out on Eastwood with the knife, and Sam's fingers prickled with the need to reach into the waistband of his pants and draw his own weapon. To hell with the wager he'd made; the money wasn't the issue. Everything inside of him screamed at him to _do_ something - to not just stand back and let a man get stabbed.

Eastwood jumped back – then ducked as Punisher swung the knife at his head. He was being pushed further and further backwards by his opponent's slashing thrusts until his back touched the metal of the bars. The bar-favorite swung the knife again, and Eastwood blocked it with his arm. However, the knife left behind a long gash in his inner forearm that bled profusely, and Sam was now close enough to hear the smaller man curse.

Punisher swung the knife yet again, barely missing Eastwood's right shoulder but nicking his left in the following attack. Most men would have probably been frightened by now but instead, Sam noticed, Eastwood looked pissed. Before the bar-favorite had a chance to swing his knife again, Eastwood retaliated with a kick to the thigh that made his taller opponent roar in pain. Punisher successfully jumped out of the way of Eastwood's flying fist two seconds later, but Eastwood took advantage of the big guy's short distraction by running straight into the man, effectively knocking him over.

As the two men rolled on the mat, struggling for control of the knife, Sam still debated whether to get involved in the fight. He would most likely be attacked by the horde of Punisher supporters if he did though, and Dean would not be pleased with him if he ended up in a hospital bed.

Eastwood swung a couple of effective punches, one of which split his opponent's lip. He managed to twist the knife out of Punisher's hand, throwing it away, but in doing so, he also gave the big guy an opportunity to kick him off. Unfortunately, as he flew backwards, the back of Eastwood's head struck the solid metal of the cage bars with a loud clang. Sam hissed in sympathy as the man's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped in a heap against the bars.

That was it. Game over. Punisher had won the bout with his dirty tricks, and Sam had lost his money because of it.

 _Dean won't be happy when he finds out._

However, before the bell could ring and thereby declare the end of the match, Eastwood suddenly opened his eyes and began to stumble unsteadily to his feet – to the frustration of the many Punisher supporters who were already celebrating their victory. Punisher himself didn't look happy with the turn of events either.

"I'm gonna rip your head off!" Sam heard the big guy sneer as he approached Eastwood, blood dripping from his split lip.

Sam couldn't tell if Eastwood responded to the threat or not. It seemed like he was putting all his energy into the effort of getting back on his feet, but Punisher apparently couldn't wait that long. As Eastwood began to push himself up, using the bars for support, Punisher kicked the man viciously in the side – _twice_ \- making Eastwood cry out in pain.

Grinding his jaw hard, Sam white-knuckled the bars of the cage as he saw Eastwood's attempt of protecting himself from a third kick.

"Hey! _Hey_! Stop it!" Sam shouted, but neither Punisher– nor his baying supporters – took any notice of him. The bar-favorite just walked around his rival, like a predator toying with his prey, and Sam didn't doubt he was trying to decide the best way to inflict more pain on Eastwood.

Eastwood, however, must have heard his shouts because he rolled his head to the side and his dazed eyes settled on Sam.

"Get up." Sam mouthed to the fallen fighter. "Come on, get up!"

Whether Eastwood actually comprehended his words, Sam would never know, but the guy suddenly seemed to tap into some new-found energy. He nimbly dodged the savage kick Punisher had aimed for his head and pulled the taller man's other leg to tip him off balance. Punisher didn't fall over but he was distracted long enough for Eastwood to finally get back up.

Although the big guy attacked right away, Eastwood seemed prepared for the onslaught. He caught the flying fist coming at his face, retaliated with a heel-of-palm strike to Punisher's nose and then swung a jaw-breaking punch with enough force to make Punisher go lights-out.

Sam heard the sickening crunch of bone hitting bone, and then the entire room fell silent as Punisher crashed to the ground like a felled oak. Just moments later, the bell rang, and the bout was officially over.

All hell broke loose in the bar-room – especially from the angry mass of Punisher supporters - and it didn't take long before fist-fights started, with tables being overturned and the sounds of breaking glass signaling a massive bar brawl.

As he steered away from the fights, Sam stared at Eastwood's retreating back and shook his head in amazement.

 _That son of a bitch had actually done it._

Sam couldn't help the sly grin that settled on his lips as he left to cash out and go find his brother.

 **_ SPN _**

"You couldn't resist, could you?" Sam asked the wounded fighter who'd just emerged from a backdoor of the building. "You just had to try the cage fight, didn't you… _Eastwood_?"

Dean flashed a bloodied smile at him.

"I had to come up with a good excuse for snooping around in the backrooms." Dean replied, cradling his hurt arm to his chest. "The cage fight was just a bonus."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam said and scanned his brother's heavily bruised face with barely masked concern. They would have to ice those bruises as soon as possible to avoid too much swelling.

He laid a supporting hand on Dean's back and led him towards the Impala, glancing warily over his shoulder to see if they were being followed. If Punisher's supporters spotted the guy that 'robbed' them of their money, they wouldn't be inviting him back in for a friendly drink, that's for sure. The faster and further they got away from this place, the better.

"It was epic, Sammy." Dean grunted as he limped towards the car; every step he took clearly painful.

"What part of it?" Sam asked. "The part where you were getting stabbed or the part where the bars knocked out your remaining braincells?"

"I had everything under control."

"Clearly."

"The knife was a surprise though." Dean admitted, then scowled as Sam plucked the car keys out of his hand. "I can drive my own damned car."

"Your arm's barely still attached to your shoulder, Dean. I think that gives me the right to drive." Sam responded.

"Just be careful with her. Remember the last time I let you drive?"

"That deer came out of nowhere, Dean. There was nothing I could have done to avoid it, and I'm done apologizing for it!"

"Whatever, man. Just don't wreck her again."

Sam sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he got behind the wheel. His brother climbed stiffly into the passenger seat and hissed quietly as he got settled.

"Do we need to swing by a hospital?" Sam asked with concern, wincing in sympathy when Dean put a protective hand over his ribs.

"No, I'm good." Dean panted, eyes closing as he leaned back against the seat. "Nothing a few band-aids can't handle."

"You mispronounced _stitches._ " Sam huffed, reached into the backseat to grab a discarded t-shirt before tossing it at his brother. "Put some pressure on that arm."

Dean grunted his response but followed Sam's instructions anyway.

A sudden movement in the rear-view mirror caught Sam's attention. As he spotted people exiting the dark-alley hideout, he swiftly turned the keys in the ignition and the Impala came to life with a roar. Sam couldn't be sure whether the approaching people had it in for them or not, but he decided not to take any chances and quickly sped away from the kerb.

"So," Sam asked, "any news on Kellerman's grandson?"

"Yeah, the bartender saw him leave with a girl two nights ago." Dean answered, blinking blearily to open his eyes. "According to the conversation he overheard, the two of them were heading to a farm outside town. Wanna bet that's where the nest is?"

"Great." Sam sighed. "Let's head out there as soon as I've patched you up. Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Dinner's on me tonight."

Dean's eyes widened comically when Sam dropped a wad of money in his lap.

"Wha-… You won all this hustling pool?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Actually no. I put my money on the cage fight." Sam revealed, glancing over at Dean with a smirk.

Dean's face lit up in a big smile.

"You put your money on me, Sammy?" He asked with obvious pride.

"Yeah. Turns out there's not much Dean Winchester can't do."

"Damn straight!"

Dean beamed at Sam, clapping him twice on the shoulder, before he began to count the bills.

 _There's gonna be blood all over the cash by the time he's done counting._

Sam shook his head fondly and only half-listened as Dean excitedly rambled on about the stuff they could buy with this to improve the bunker's interior.

As a kid, Sam had always thought of Dean as a superhero. Growing up, he had discovered that his brother had flaws and could bleed like everyone else. Along the way, however, he realized something far more important; Dean could do anything he put his mind to, and Sam was proud to have a big brother like him by his side.

 **THE END**


End file.
